


After Hours

by SheyrinaLabyrinthianDragon



Category: Labyrinth (1986)
Genre: Banter, Eventual Smut, F/M, Pool & Billiards, Romance, Unresolved Sexual Tension
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-02-11
Updated: 2018-01-17
Packaged: 2019-03-06 12:25:01
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 11,940
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13411206
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SheyrinaLabyrinthianDragon/pseuds/SheyrinaLabyrinthianDragon
Summary: Sarah gets an unexpected visitor in her bar after closing time. The stakes are set and a new game begins, but this is not your average pool game. Pointless, predictable, and cliché, this is just a bit of fun and UST.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: All things Labyrinth are not mine.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Recipe: Gather a few ideas, a handful (or two or three) of clichés, a pinch of creative license and toss into a blender. Pulse until thoroughly mixed. Serve over frozen inspiration with a dash of glitter and a little umbrella.
> 
> It's all due to a comment I made on another story, the idea wouldn't go away. Also known as what happens when you decide to start a story while drinking. Take it for what it is, I never claimed to be good at this. *lol*
> 
> I usually post on FFN, but I thought it time I try to figure out AO3.

The dimly lit, smoky atmosphere of the bar had a relaxed feel to it. Music from the aged jukebox thrummed through the air, lending an aura of a time past as Sarah finished wiping down the bar and began putting glasses away. She smiled as the strains of _White Rabbit_ twanged through the haze. Despite the miasma of stale alcohol and old cigarettes, the music only seemed to add a surreal quality to the environment. Being the middle of the week, the bar was rarely busy this late at night. Had it been the weekend, the place would have been packed until closing time. As it was, only a couple of the regulars took up favorite barstools, eyes trained on the outdated television screen that hung in the corner of the room, the silent, grainy images of a late-night sports channel capturing their inebriated visual senses. She looked at the clock.

"Hey, boys, it's about time to head out. Almost closing time."

"Sure thing, Sarah," said the portly older man in the button-down flannel and faded blue jeans, his kindly blue eyes bright with the effects of his drink. "Wanna call us a cab? Mike and I can share a ride home." The other man, thinner and younger with brown hair and eyes, grunted his agreement as he stubbed out his cigarette.

"He's lucky to have someone like you watching out for him, Larry," she said in reply as she picked up the phone and dialed the cab company.

Larry leaned over the bar, placing the back of a gnarled hand to his gray bearded lips, and whispered conspiratorially, "Really, I think he just likes the attention."

"Fuck you, Larry," Mike said belligerently as he tossed back the last of his whisky.

Sarah grinned at Larry, and he winked at her while she gave the cab company the address of the bar. She hung up the phone. "All right, guys, they'll be here in ten. You're welcome to hang out for a few more minutes if you want."

Mike peered at her with bleary eyes. "You know, you're a sweet girl, Sarah. Someday you really oughta get out of this shithole," Mike waved an arm in a gesture that was supposed to encompass the entirety of the bar but ended up looking like the last death throe of a dying fish before flopping back to the bar.

"And miss such tender moments as this?" Sarah laughed good-naturedly as she leaned on the aged bar, her dark hair falling forward over her shoulders and her jade eyes twinkling in the subdued lighting of hanging lamps so old they'd become vintage.

Mike scowled at her for a moment before breaking into a lop-sided grin. He slid off the worn barstool and pulled on his denim jacket as he waited on unsteady legs for Larry to do the same. She watched as the pair shuffled their way to the door.

"Have a good night, guys, see you next time," she called after them as she reached under the till for the keys to lock the place up for the night. They waved back at her as they stepped out onto the street. Waiting for a moment after they left to follow behind, she locked the door and switched off the neon "Open" sign to "Closed."

Following her normal closing routine, she stopped by the jukebox, which had fallen silent, and selected the random option to play. _Lonely is the Night_ shattered the quiet solitude, and she danced a path between the pool tables on her way back to the bar in time to the classic rock beat. Tossing the keys back under the till, she grabbed a pencil from the counter and twisted her mass of hair into a serviceable bun, inserting the pencil to hold it together. Picking up the last two glasses on the bar and wiping the surface with a practiced swipe of a rag, she deposited the glasses into the sink, humming along with the music as she washed and dried them. She was reaching over on tiptoes to place them on an upper shelf when a flicker of movement caught her eye in the mirrored backdrop of the bar, causing her to falter and nearly drop a glass in shock.

"Damn it, Jareth! You nearly gave me a heart attack," she glared at the figure in the mirror, gripping the edge of the counter with her hand so hard that her knuckles went white. He was lounging on the bar top behind her with his back resting against one of the artificial wooden supports, one arm resting nonchalantly over a raised leather-clad knee. He gave her a knowing smirk, eerily reminiscent of one he'd given her at fifteen, once upon a dream. She took a deep breath to try and calm the erratic beating of her heart caused by the sudden surge of adrenaline.

"Interesting way to greet an old friend. Is that customary?" he asked, tugging on the edge of a black leather glove.

Forcing herself to relax, she turned around to face him, half expecting to see nothing there. Mirror communication could be tricky that way she'd learned, but no such luck was hers tonight. He was definitely there, dressed in black, from his characteristic knee-high boots to his black poet's shirt and leather vest, the distinctive pendant that lay against his chest peeking out from the silken folds with a dull gleam. She raised her eyes, caught once again by the cruel, ethereal beauty of him; the way the wild, golden strands of his hair framed the lean, angular lines of his face and lay in stark contrast to his clothing. Damn, he was even sexier than she remembered. Meeting the unique features of his eyes with her own, she cleared her throat against his roguish demeanor as he assessed her appraisal of him.

"Friend? I wasn't aware we'd moved beyond enemies," she countered, crossing her arms. She was suddenly acutely aware that she wasn't dressed all that differently than he was. She knew he realized it, too, as his gaze flicked down to take in her own boots, leather pants, a gray blouse that bared her shoulders with sleeves that belled at the elbow, and a black leather bodice that was currently framing her assets in a most uncomfortable fashion under his scrutiny. She fought the blush that was threatening to creep up her face. If he noticed her discomfiture, he chose to ignore it.

"Hmm, really? Yet, you curse my name with such familiarity," he responded casually, glancing at her out of the corner of his eye.

Sarah snorted. "Friend or enemy makes no difference when you scare the living hell out of someone like that." She ignored his irritating grin. "What are you doing here? Bored enough to come Aboveground to mingle with us lowly mortals?"

"Something like that. Contrary to what you may think, I do spend a fair amount of time Aboveground," he stated with an air of relaxed indifference.

"Dressed like that?" she gestured with a wave of her hand towards his clothing.

He gave her a pointed look. "Because dressing like some sort of gypsy is equally unheard of?"

She gave him a dark look in return. "I am not dressed like any kind of gypsy. Not enough color and I left the skirt at home."

"More's the pity," he responded, a mischievous spark in his eyes, "I can remedy that."

She rolled her eyes. Apparently, mortal men weren't the only ones that thought with their head in their pants. She looked down and realized she was still holding the glass tumbler in her hand. "Well, since you're here, would you like a drink?"

Heavens knew, _she_ was definitely going to need one if her suspicions for him being there proved accurate, and based on his response so far, well, a drink definitely sounded like a good idea. Liquid courage and all, right? At the slight incline of his head, she turned and grabbed another tumbler and set them on the bar. Eyeing the selection of alcohols behind her she held one toward him. At his nod, she started to pour a generous amount of the amber liquid into each glass.

"No show tonight?" he asked in a teasing tone as she handed one to him.

She eyed him shrewdly. "What do you mean?"

"I've heard you have developed quite a _flair_ for this bartending job of yours," he supplied with a tilt of his head.

"Have you been spying on me, Jareth?" she asked, her eyes glinting with suspicion.

"Spying is hardly the word. I have no power over you, remember?" She thought she detected a hint of bitterness in his tone as he swirled the dark amber liquid in his glass, but it was fleeting. "That effectively nixes you from the spy-able population." He drained the glass in one swallow, setting it back on the bar.

"Really? Then how did you come by such information?" she asked as she refilled the glass.

"I have other ways."

In fact, she knew he only had one other way, and she was pretty sure he'd had to wring it from the poor dwarf. "You didn't threaten him, did you?"

He looked at her innocently. "Would I do such a thing?"

"Why, no," she feigned surprise, "why would I ever think you capable of stooping to such tactics? Oh, that's right, because you have. Be nice to him."

"I rather thought I was. After all, I still allow him to speak to you."

"I had figured that's how you found me here tonight." She leaned back against the counter, watching him over the rim of her glass as she took a bracing swallow of her bourbon, relishing the burn that slid down her throat to the pit of her stomach. "So, really, what are you doing here?"

With fluid, leonine grace, he picked up his glass and hopped down to her side of the bar, electing to lean against it in front of her. She couldn't help but follow the lean lines of his legs, noting his pants still left little to the imagination. Some things never changed, she thought wryly. She realized he'd caught her glance when she glimpsed that irksome smirk as he looked down into his glass as if considering his answer.

"Among some _very_ interesting things divulged by your…friend, the dwarf mentioned something that intrigued me, and given your casual acceptance of my presence here, I'm inclined to believe he was telling the truth," he replied, his tone daring her to deny it.

Damn, so she'd been right. One night of drunken confessions to the last person she should have been revealing anything to had landed her a Goblin King. Of course, Jareth _would_ have picked the most inopportune time to grill Hoggle on his activities. She'd known, on some level in her drunken stupor, that she'd kept the gruff old dwarf away for too long and was sure he'd only stayed late that night out of his concern for her. Sarah drank, but she very rarely got _drunk_ , and with good reason, as epitomized by the tall, extremely provocative Goblin King standing before her. She also had the distinct misfortune of only remembering about half of that conversation.

"Hmm, and what exactly did he tell you?" she asked, keeping her tone neutral.

"You're curious," he replied, stressing the last word with a slight inflection, his eyes alight with amusement.

She held her ground. "About what?"

"That is the question, isn't it?" he returned, raising his glass to his lips as he watched her.

She narrowed her eyes at him, meeting his with a hint of annoyance. So, he was going to make a game of it, was he? Of course, he would. She contemplated on how to proceed for a moment. To hell with it, she decided, downing the rest of her own drink. If he was toying with her like this, then the cat was out of the bag, and he knew it. The only thing against her now was not knowing the rules of the game he'd come out to play. She'd be damned if she was going to let him call all the shots, however.

With slow deliberation, she moved toward him. Flashing him her most sultry smile, she raised her hand to his chest, lightly running her fingers down the front of his vest, her eyes following the movement with a tilt of her head, noting how still he became under her touch. Glancing up, she met the challenge in his darkening eyes with her own, leaning forward until her chest just barely brushed his, then with a teasing flick of her tongue to her teeth, she reached behind him to pluck the bottle of bourbon from the bar. Laughing in response to his surprise at her audacity, she spun away from him and walked around the bar.

"Cruel, minx," he growled from behind her.

"If you thought I'd be frightened of you, I'm sorry to disappoint," she said, setting her glass on one of the little bar tables that sat near the jukebox and refilling it from the bottle in her hand. Trading the bottle for her glass, she turned and placed her back against the wall, studying him. "I'm not a sulky teenager anymore, Jareth, and I've had my fair dealings with the male variety."

"Have you now?" He corralled her against the wall, as she'd known he would after that display, but she refused to give an inch as he placed a gloved hand on the red, velveteen flocked wallpaper next to her head. His scent swirled around her, dark and woodsy with a subtle hint of leather and spice that banished the stale air of the bar and brought to mind suggestive images of dusky nights, cool silk, and warm candlelight. Bastard was probably doing that on purpose, she thought, doing her best to remain unaffected. A task that proved emphatically more difficult than she ever dreamed, especially with the opening verse of _Rhiannon_ having decided to take a turn on the jukebox at that moment.

He looked down at her with a contemplative gleam in his unusual blue eyes. "And are there…other…varieties?"

She gave him a sweet smile, "Now, now, do you _really_ think I'm going to reveal my secrets just to ease your… _curiosity_?"

He threw back his head and laughed with genuine delight. "Touché. Perhaps we can come to an arrangement."

"A game, you mean. I _really_ didn't like your last game very much, you know." She glanced up and thought she saw something dark flicker through his eyes, but just as quickly, it was gone, replaced by his earlier mischievousness.

"Surely there were moments you enjoyed?" he purred, leaning closer.

Sarah had to smile at that. There _were_ moments, she couldn't deny that. How else would this sinfully attractive male feature in her dreams so profoundly? He had never been far from her thoughts, especially after she understood the true nature of what was happening in the Labyrinth. After several years had passed, regardless of the continued contact with her friends, she'd simply assumed they'd never meet again. In all likelihood, it was possible he preferred it that way considering she'd rejected him, and really, that was probably for the best. That is until she'd called Hoggle during a drunken daze and spilled her guts, figuratively speaking. Drunkenness and unrelieved sexual frustration apparently made for poor bedfellows. The hangover had been monumental.

"I'd be lying if I said there weren't. Be that as it may, what makes you think I'd willingly agree to play any sort of game with you after the last one, hmm?" She raised her eyebrows at him, her green eyes glittering with the taunt.

His own eyes took on a decidedly wicked gleam, and a smile that would put even the Cheshire cat to shame spread over his lips as he answered. "Because if there is one thing I've learned about you, Sarah, it's that you enjoy rising to the challenge." He leaned down further until his lips were near her ear, his breath warm against her skin. "And our little game isn't over yet." He leaned back slightly, catching her eyes with his own to see the effect of his words.

She couldn't suppress the shiver she felt run down her spine and settle in her nether regions, spreading a sensation that felt suspiciously like butterflies in her stomach in addition to the more heated blossoming of desire. Not that she needed even the slightest bit of help with the latter. Just being near him triggered that without any additional encouragement, and she was pretty sure he knew it, judging by the smirk on his face. Even so, she flashed him a defiant look.

"Which game is that? I'm relatively sure I beat your Labyrinth within the allotted time and rules seeing as how Toby and I made it home safe and sound that night."

"So, you did, but I'm fairly certain you are now aware that there was far more at stake. Perhaps not the extent of it, however." He took a slow drink from his glass as he appraised her. There was a quiet intensity to his next words. "Are you ready to find out?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "White Rabbit" - Jefferson Airplane, 1967
> 
> "Lonely Is The Night" – Billy Squier, 1981
> 
> "Rhiannon" – Fleetwood Mac, 1981
> 
> Crystalline Dreams,  
> ~*~ Sheyrina, Labyrinthian Dragon


	2. Chapter 2

She didn't miss the way his eyes drifted over her, and she took a moment to consider his question. She'd known something else was in play from the moment he'd confronted her in the tunnels, in the way his eyes flicked over her, in the silky tones he'd used when he spoke to her. At fifteen, she'd been keenly aware of his sexuality, a subject that was taboo for her at that age, and he'd practically _dripped_ with it, but…she'd been too young to have the knowledge or experience to play his game on that level yet. A boon for her, or she might well have failed her quest. Her very innocence had been her shield, one he'd tried to breach during the dream and again during the final confrontation. No, she hadn't been ready then, but with no one's fate but her own hanging in the balance, she was more than ready now. Hell, she'd invited it. ' _If you can't take the heat, don't tickle the dragon,'_ and she'd definitely tickled the dragon.

Sarah raised her glass to her lips, never taking her eyes from his as she let the bourbon burn slowly down her throat before giving him an answer. "Fine, but I'm not doing that whole thirteen-hour thing again."

"Oh? Why not? It was so delightfully entertaining." His lips twitched with suppressed humor, his eyes dancing with a glimmer of laughter.

Rolling her eyes, she pushed against him and ducked under his arm, setting her glass down on the table. "For you, maybe. I was a bit too preoccupied to fully enjoy the experience," she replied with droll sarcasm as she walked over to a pool table, trailing her fingers along the pitted wooden rails. She paused at the end, her head cocked to the side, thinking as her fingers drummed to the beat of _Fame_. A thought struck her, and she turned to face him with a grin. "Have you ever played pool?"

He set his glass down beside hers and stepped over to the rack on the wall, selecting two cue sticks from the array that hung there. "I haven't had the pleasure in some time, but yes, I know the game." He flicked a sideways glance at her. "Is this the game you wish to play?"

She studied him as he came over to the table, finding herself mesmerized by his languid grace as he seated himself along the edge nearest her, the cue sticks leaning negligently against his shoulder. "Nothing remotely extravagant by your standards, I'm sure, but…it could be fun. Although, I have a hard time imagining _you_ playing it," she said, breaking her gaze away from him with some effort. She stooped to pull the rack and balls from their storage area in the table, setting them up on the green felted surface. She paused, looking over the balls as a ridiculous thought occurred to her. "Then again, maybe not so farfetched," she added as she stood up, placing the last of the balls into the rack, save one. With a small flourish, she held the black eight-ball toward him on the tips of her fingers, a sly smile on her lips as he quirked an eyebrow at her.

"Are you offering me my dreams, Sarah?"

She laughed at the absurdity of the idea. "The only magic I've ever seen in an eight-ball is _'reply hazy, try again_ ,'" she replied dryly. Then her expression sobered as she stared at the ball in consternation, her brows knitted as the potential implication of her words dawned on her.

With a faint smile, he reached over and plucked the black ball from her fingertips, his eyes dark in the dim lighting. "Perhaps now we should set the stakes."

Sarah visibly shook herself from her daze, looking at him as his words sank in. "Of course," she murmured and sighed. "What did you have in mind?"

His gaze drifted over the pool table, settling on the triangular rack of balls. "One question answered for each shot a player manages to pocket in their own suit."

"Questions? That's it?" She'd expected something a little less subtle…or maybe more subtle, she couldn't decide, but then, this _was_ Jareth. She glanced at him suspiciously. "What sort of questions?"

"Anything you wish, but you must answer the question and," he held up a finger for emphasis, "answer it with complete honesty, or forfeit the game."

She considered this. "And what is the price of a forfeit?"

"Do you plan to forfeit, Sarah?" he asked, amusement in his tone.

"That really depends on the question, doesn't it?" she responded, though they both knew it wasn't in her nature. Her eyes fell on the black eight-ball resting in the palm of his gloved hand. "And that one?"

"Ah, this," he said, a slow smile spreading over his lips as he caught her eyes. With a twist of his wrist, he sent the ball spinning around his hand in one quick movement, too fast for her to follow. He leaned toward her then, displaying a smoky black crystal on his fingertips. "Let us test your theory on a magic eight-ball. The victor may ask it to reveal a dream. If conditions are favorable, it will grant it."

Sarah stared warily at the crystal.

"Are you afraid?" he asked, his voice deceptively mild.

She glanced at him sharply. "Dreams can be interpreted in many ways, Jareth. Define 'favorable.'"

"Very well." He settled back, favoring her with an indulgent expression. "Do you suppose it would be prudent to have a unicorn traipsing about Aboveground?"

She couldn't help the burst of laughter at the unlikely image of a unicorn suddenly prancing its way down the middle of a busy city street. The havoc created would be immeasurable. She shook her head, a wry smile on her lips. "Obviously not. However, I think my dreams have moved a bit beyond such childish fantasies."

He gave a slight nod, a roguish smirk playing at the corners of his lips. "Then, perhaps, it is _my_ dreams that warrant your apprehension."

Catching the suggestive undertone in his words, she cast him a contemplative look. "And perhaps you should be a little more circumspect regarding mine," she replied evenly, a coquettish twinkle in her eyes as she leaned toward him, letting her fingers brush ever so lightly across his as she took the crystal from his hand. She could feel his eyes studying her with renewed interest as she placed it gently into the position usually occupied by the eight-ball and smoothly racked the balls. She glanced at him out of the corner of her eye. "Tell me, will you be bound by the same rules I am?"

"Clever girl," his grin was approving. "I will, of course, be bound by the same set of rules as I seem to distinctly remember your penchant for fairness."

The jibe awarded him a caustic look, and he grinned wider when she pointedly ignored him. She carefully removed the rack and slipped it back into its storage, turning to face him as he stood up and offered her one of the pool sticks.

"How would you like to decide the break?" she asked coolly, still refusing to acknowledge his taunt as she took the proffered stick and chalked the tip.

"Why, ladies first," he replied with a courteous bow and a mischievous smile. Sarah eyed him with a dubious expression, shaking her head in bemusement. It was reasonably clear he was up to something, and every warning bell she possessed was screaming with it.

Walking around to the opposite side of the table, she leaned forward to place the cue ball on the slate, sizing up the break shot. She jumped, slightly startled, when she felt him behind her, his hands grasping her waist and lightly pulling her to him as he angled his head over her shoulder. She hadn't realized that he'd followed her so closely. Or maybe he hadn't, a small part of her mind reasoned rationally before taking flight as his pale blond hair tickled along the back of her neck and shoulder. There was something distinctly sensual about that, she decided, her heightened awareness to his proximity already threatening to unravel her senses.

"One more thing," he said, the pleasant timbre of his voice like velvet in her ear, sending a delightful trail of shivers up her spine that made her pulse race and caused the hairs at the nape of her neck to rise. She closed her eyes as a tingling flush of heat pooled low in her abdomen and waged a brief battle to keep her errant breathing in check. Emerging victorious, if only briefly, she leaned slightly away to turn a questioning look at him. He responded with an upward tilt of his brow and a predacious gleam in his eyes, patently aware of her reaction, then directed her attention toward the table with a nod of his head. Looking down, she watched, fascinated, as he made a gesture toward the cue ball; the creamy white color shimmered and swirled until it became a milky colored crystal. "Scratch and you must fulfill a challenge. Refuse, and you also forfeit."

"So, what, is this like the crystal billiards version of truth or dare?" she asked facetiously.

He chuckled in response. "Just making things...interesting," he replied, deliberately ghosting the last word along the side of her neck, his lips not quite making contact with her skin. Her senses prickled in response, and not in an adverse way. She wasn't going to lie to herself, the feel of him against her back gave her a tantalizing thrill, but while her body was busy betraying her, her mind was thinking.

He wanted interesting? She could do interesting. Since he seemed so very intent on trying to unnerve her—and, damn him, it was working—it was only _fair_ that she reciprocated. Without a second thought, Sarah leaned back and pressed herself tightly against him, feeling the firm musculature of his thighs against hers, the solidity of his chest, the hard contour of his pendant as it pressed into her back. His hands instinctively grasped her hips tighter for balance, and she smiled to herself when she heard his breathing falter and then halt as she knowingly brushed against other, more intimate, parts of his anatomy. Canting her head back to his shoulder, she savored the silky caress of his hair across her cheek and breathed in his scent as it flared stronger around her, accompanied by a feeling like soft static that rippled and hummed in the air surrounding them.

_Not as cool, calm, and collected as you make yourself out to be, are you, Goblin King?_ she thought impishly as she turned her head along his shoulder to whisper in his ear. "Have you forgotten? '…my will is as strong as yours.'"

He let his breath out slowly as he shifted her just enough to see her face, bringing his hand up to trail smooth, gloved fingers along the side of her jaw until they curled beneath her chin and tilted her face to make her look into his eyes. There was something dark and wild there, and for an ephemeral moment, she saw that darkness engulf his entire bearing, the static hum surrounding them pulsing in response to the piercing intensity of his gaze. Or maybe that was the music, she thought dazedly, the dark, soft rock tones of _Isn't it Midnight_ seeming to meld with the atmosphere. She blinked, and the darkness vanished, but the enigmatic way he looked at her remained.

"You play a dangerous game, Sarah," he said, his voice low. Husky? Yes, definitely husky, she decided, almost a purr that let her know she was dancing on the wild side of licentious temptation.

"Wasn't that the point of you deciding to show up here? To play a game?" she questioned, unable to keep her own voice from reflecting the backlash effect he was having on her, resulting in her words coming out on a slightly breathy note. She felt the hand on her hip tighten, and his eyes flashed with carnal intent as they lowered from her eyes to her mouth, his thumb rubbing lightly across her chin and bottom lip. Her heart raced, her breath stilled. She was playing with fire at the entrance to the dragon's lair.

"To finish a game, one which you seem intent on upping the stakes for," he stated, his tone caught somewhere between wonder and admiration for her self-assurance.

"I'm not the one that wagered with dreams, Jareth, either then or now." She lowered her lashes, concealing the burst of playful provocation that lurked there. "I play to win. The question that remains is...are you sure you can still live up to my expectations?"

She felt the rumble of his amusement as it vibrated through her. "Of that, I have no doubt, exhausting creature that you are," he replied, releasing her and stepping back, leaving her senses reeling in the wake of his sudden withdrawal.

Bold advance, tactical retreat. Sarah realized in an instant of clarity that, although she may have instigated the game in front of them, it was nothing more than a façade, a thinly veiled gateway with the distinct likelihood of leading to more interesting endeavors. The real game, the one rife with the weighty veneer of their appetence, was being played in the defining actions of a long-awaited seduction. She'd had plenty of time to consider the implications of his behavior during her run, had analyzed every possible meaning drawn from both book and actions, and had come to a startling conclusion some years before. Armed now with understanding and experience, she'd come back into play a worthy opponent, assertively picking up where he'd been forced to leave off. In addition, she realized this was the perfect opportunity to satisfy a few of her curiosities, and she realized, too, that there was something in the story she wanted to validate, something that would have a lasting impact on the outcome of this venture, one way or another.

Regaining her composure, she smirked at him over her shoulder as she resumed her position at the table, leveling her pool stick at the shimmering crystal cue ball. She paused momentarily, then tossed him an incisive look that promised hell to pay with her next words. "No cheating. I'm quite well aware you could pocket this entire table in two seconds flat."

He laughed as she struck the cue ball, sending it forward in a solid break that scattered the balls evenly across the table, observing with interest the odd clinking sound of the crystals as they collided with the more mundane object balls. As they slowed and rolled to a stop, she watched the solid red ball drop into a far corner pocket. She straightened and propped herself against the table, her lips pursed in thought.

Deciding what questions to ask was a more difficult task than she'd anticipated, and she had no ready line of questioning. There were, of course, a number of questions that she _could_ ask him, but most of them related to their prior history. Though she was intensely curious in his answers for some of those, when it came down to it, she had to admit she really knew very little about the Goblin King himself aside from the careful gleanings of conversations with her friends. None of them had ever suspected a thing, of course, and plied with subtle motivation over a game of his beloved Scrabble (and these days, thirty-year scotch), it was Sir Didymus's glib tongue that proved most willing to share tidbits of information regarding his monarch.

Of course, these were no comparison to being in the dominating presence of the King himself. Though it was increasingly difficult not to be overwhelmed by the sheer power and predatory nature that radiated from him, the stubborn determination and natural defiance that served as part of her inherent disposition would not let her succumb to his charms that easily unless she allowed it. However, unsurprisingly, she found she was only too willing to comply if it were not for the principle of the matter. She had to at least _try_ to give as good as she got, and that was a challenge in itself, and only seemed to heighten the intensity of their interactions. This, she suspected, was what served their mutual fascination with each other now. She honestly didn't think there was more to it than that.

Still, she had constructed a very different view of him than the one she had built at fifteen, and it only served to make her want to learn more about him. That, she decided, was where she should start. After all, games of this nature were meant to sate curiosities, and she was definitely curious about him, and didn't he say he spent time Aboveground?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The pool game isn't going to follow anything more than the bar house rules I grew up on, so don't expect a by the book game. *lol*
> 
> "Fame" - David Bowie, 1978
> 
> "Isn't it Midnight" - Fleetwood Mac, 1987 (this particular song is part of the inspiration for this story. I've always felt that many Stevie Nicks and Fleetwood Mac songs could pertain to J/S. Yes, it is highly likely "Rooms on Fire" will make an appearance as well, sue me).
> 
> Crystalline Dreams,  
> ~*~ Sheyrina, Labyrinthian Dragon


	3. Chapter 3

"What exactly do you do when you come Aboveground?" she finally asked. "Besides the obvious, I mean."

He seemed to study her for a long moment before responding. "Entertainment," he replied. "For the most part."

Sarah's brow furrowed, her jade eyes expressing her puzzlement. "That seems a bit odd."

"I _am_ capable of more than seemingly nefarious acts," he stated, the corner of his mouth tilting up in a small smirk.

"I'm sure that's a point of debate in some circles," she commented dryly, "nevertheless, I can't see how a kingdom full of goblins and other strange beings could be anything less than entertaining, especially when compared to mere mortals." Her tone was skeptical, her eyes following him as he returned to the little bar table.

Refilling his glass and taking a drink, he turned to face her, a slight glint of humor glittering in his eyes. "Ah, but the inventive and resourceful imaginations of mortals have always held a certain… appeal. For beings with no possession of magic, yours is truly a fascinating race."

She graced him with a sardonic smile and crossed her arms, the hand with her cue stick nestled neatly in the crook of her elbow. "Thanks…I think. However, you're side-stepping the actual question."

He gave her a wolfish grin and poured some more bourbon into her empty glass as well. "There are…other…diversions, of course, as I'm sure you're aware."

His tone left little doubt as to what he was referring to, and as much as the thought of his more intimate endeavors appealed to her, she shook her head. "A foray into your love life isn't what I was aiming for."

"It has nothing to do with _love_ , dear Sarah. There is nothing wrong with seeking pleasure for the sake of pleasure," he responded, coming to stand before her, glass tumblers in hand. "In whatever form it comes."

She tilted her head as she regarded him, carefully taking her glass from his hand. "I never said there was, and while I'm sure you have a lovely history of willing participants that would make for fascinating pillow talk, you're still sidestepping the question." She took a sip of the bourbon, liquid fire granting her courage. She narrowed her eyes at him. "Out with it, playboy."

His grin was unrepentant. "Very well." He took the glass from her hand and set it down beside his as he moved to stand behind her. Grasping her around the waist with one hand, he brought the other down in front of her, a crystal balanced on his fingertips. "Allow me to show you, hmm?"

"Is this how you seduce all your 'diversions?'" she asked facetiously.

He chuckled, splaying his hand over her belly and firmly pulling her against him. "I find there is generally little effort on my part."

_Conceited wretch_ , she thought, feeling him shift as she tried to elbow him in the ribs. "Arrogance will cost you the game if you're not careful, Goblin King."

"Is that so?" he drawled in amusement. "Perhaps it is the thrill of the _risk_ I find most exhilarating, rather than the rewards reaped at the end of the game. Fortunately, they are not mutually exclusive, and neither are we." He pressed her back against him, his lips a hairsbreadth from her ear. "Now, will you still your tongue or shall I find a suitably efficient method in which to do so for you?"

His voice had dropped to a dark, rasping velvet, the warm breath of his words a sensual taunt against the sensitized hairs of her skin. Sarah's senses prickled in response, prurient images blooming in her mind on the heels of his insinuation, culminating in a frisson of desire that snaked down her spine and coiled low in her gut. She stilled in his grasp, breathless as he drew the featherlight touch of his fingertips slowly up her stomach and back down in a leisurely caress. He was validating the promise of his languid threat, and it left no doubt as to the intent behind his suggestion. She closed her eyes, letting the feelings that his touch wrought throb through her as she purposely squelched her natural urge to provoke him. She knew without question that she was beyond playing with fire; the dragon was out and he was prowling. She was more than a little curious to see what he would do next.

She wasn't disappointed, and her breath caught in a soft inhale as she felt his lips graze lightly over the skin of her neck, his hand trailing down to rest teasingly against her lower belly. The serpentine coil of lust resting beneath his stroking fingers churned within her, causing the blood in her veins to pulsate so that it seemed to coincide with the dark, jazzy tones of _Black Magic Woman_ and _how did he do that?_ It was ridiculously unfair that he could turn the very atmosphere to his advantage, and even though she was completely aware he was employing one of his subtler methods on her now, it was such a delicious sensation that she allowed herself to indulge in the moment and relaxed against him.

He took her weight in stride, allowing her to press into him, and much like before, Sarah let her head fall back against his shoulder while her free hand roamed lightly over the top of his. Her fingers teased over the soft leather of his glove to splay over his hand and press it more firmly against her. After all, there was a reason he'd come, and the effect she had on him was unmistakable if the hard bulge between them was anything to go by. She was well aware they were playing into each other's hands, but then, she was certain that neither of them had ever intended for any other outcome this night, and she was perfectly fine with that. That didn't mean they weren't going to have a little fun with each other along the way, however. She turned her head to meet his heated gaze, that strange static hum pulsing between them, and for a moment, she thought she might fall into the darkening depths of his prismatic eyes, games be damned.

"Doing as I say isn't all that difficult now is it, Sarah?" he chuckled quietly, effectively breaking through her lust induced haze. Her senses immediately sharpened, but before she could find a suitably scathing remark, he had brought the crystal in his other hand back up to her eye level. She huffed at his smooth redirection of her focus.

"To answer your question, I find myself intrigued by the evolution of theater into cinematic productions," a turn of his wrist and images flickered to life within the crystal. The unmistakable words of a Shakespearean play spilled forth, echoing in her ears:

_"To mourn a mischief that is past and gone is the next way to draw new mischief on."_

Her brow furrowed, something about the line niggling at her thoughts. Before she could consider it further, the image in the crystal blurred and sharpened over a multitude of displays. She suddenly realized she was seeing the same play as they were enacted upon a centenary of stages through time, a myriad of diversifications presented until it settled upon a darkened theater, a modern adaptation of the play highlighting the silver screen.

"The changes in the composition and variations of music," he turned the crystal again and the image shifted, much like before, flickering through a repertoire of instrumental sound and vocal styling. It settled at last on a performance of _Astronomy_ from a concert in the nearer past, and then she realized the song was echoing the very one now playing on the jukebox. She gave him an amused glance, to which he gave her a knowing smile.

"Here, there are magnificent galleries that house the masterpieces of the most enlightened artists of your past, countless museums devoted to your history and science, and extraordinary monuments dedicated to the fallen heroes and victims of your greatest tragedies." The images continued to flicker through the crystal, like slides in a projector; some she recognized, many she did not. "Then, of course, there are the multitudes of wineries, dineries, clubs, and raves so prevalent in modern times. The list goes on." With a dismissive flick of his hand, the darkened crystal vanished. Dropping his hand to her stomach, he trapped hers between both of his.

"Raves?" she thought about that for a minute, relishing the heat his touch spread through her. "You know, that doesn't surprise me half as much as it probably should," she laughed.

"No?"

She twisted her head around, leveling a sardonic grin at him. "Peaches."

His wolfish grin returned as he looked down at her. "Really, Sarah, your dream was nowhere near the spectrum of a rave party."

"True, but hallucinogenic fruit still applies even if the dress code didn't." With a regretful sigh, she pulled her hand free, her fingers dancing lightly over his, then gingerly, reluctantly, she stepped away from him. She allowed herself a moment to revel in the sensation of his hands sliding down her hips before he let go and returned her attention to the table. "I never thought you'd be such an Aboveground excursionist. Imagine, the Goblin King, a tourist," she smirked.

"Yes, well, as delightful as my subjects can be, I find there are more _relaxing_ interests in your world," he replied, nonplussed.

Sarah glanced at him with a sultry grin before leaning over, making a casual gesture toward the green ball and the side pocket before taking the shot. Her aim was true, and the cue ball clinked against the object ball, sending it unerringly to its destination. "Do you find it lonely in the Underground?"

He seemed momentarily surprised by the question. "I suppose that's a matter of perspective. The Underground is rife with intrigue and the melodramatic simpering of its nobility. While there is never a lack of companionship, the more cultured inhabitants of my world lack the spark of life that is so abundant in the Above, and _friendship_ ," he gave her a mocking scowl, "is counted by favors earned and spent."

Sarah gave him a rueful smile. Whether he realized it or not, she'd caught the undercurrent of bitterness and rancor in his otherwise contemptuous tone. "Surely there must be more to it. I refuse to believe that the people of a world spinning on the axis of magic itself can hold so little appeal. I've certainly found those I've met entrancing in their own ways."

He cocked his head at her, regarding her intently as she gestured the orange ball to a corner pocket. She struck the cue ball, and though it traveled the length of the table to its target, the motion was off kilter enough to set the orange ball bouncing between the two tits of the pocket, resulting in a failed shot. She sighed. "Guess that means it's your turn."

He inclined his head and moved along the side of the table to where the cue ball was now resting, the clear shot the striped purple that was nearly hanging in the pocket of the left corner opposite him. As he made to take the shot, she retrieved her glass from the side rail of the pool table and moved to set upon a barstool, crossing her legs and lounging back against the bar on her elbow. Taking a small sip from her glass, she let her eyes wander over him, allowing herself to admire the lean curve of his backside as he bent over, the flex of muscles in his thighs as he adjusted his position. His pendant caught the light as it fell forward, swinging gently over the table as he let the cue stick slide through his fingers, sinking the intended ball with little effort. He stood up, the corners of his mouth twitching as he caught her watching him. She held his eyes, smiling into her glass as she waited for his question.

"How is it that you come to run a place such as this? Your dreams once ran to far grander aspirations, as I recall."

Sarah let her gaze travel over the dated atmosphere of the bar. "I don't just run it; I own it," she replied with a sweeping gesture of her arm, the little bit of bourbon left in her glass gently sloshing with the motion. "Well, for all intents and purposes, anyway." His expression was one of idle patience, clearly waiting for her to elaborate, and she flashed him a devious smile, uncrossing her legs and leaning forward. "Would you believe I won it?"

At his raised brow, she continued. "It was a pool game, or rather, set of pool games, much like this one. You see, I rather enjoy the game, and it was a fun, if short-lived, addiction. I had learned to hold my own quite well, and on the night this particular game took place, it seemed to me I was having a stroke of good fortune, a winning streak a mile long as the saying goes. Seeing this, the owner decided to lay down a challenge with some very interesting stakes," there was a twinkle in her jade green eyes as she looked at him. "The game was to go 'around the world,' and the prize was ownership of the bar. Not that I particularly wanted the bar or even figured that he would honor it if I won, but the thrill of a high-stakes bet drew me in, and so we played."

Swallowing the last of her drink, she set the glass down and leaned back again, enjoying the lassitude the alcohol spread through her. She gazed at him steadily through hooded eyes as she continued her story, wondering if he had yet picked up on anything unusual about their location. If not, he was about to. "It was a long night, but eventually, I did go around the world and, as you can see, he did honor his terms, not that he had much choice. I learned some _fascinating_ things about this bar on transfer of ownership, and there may have been some significance in the duration of time spent playing that night, though I've always suspected I had a little 'help.'" Her eyes flicked briefly to the clock before settling back on him.

Alerted not by what she said, but how she said it, he followed her glance. The hands of the clock remained stilled at midnight, but the second hand kept ticking its steady way around the face, and when his eyes returned to hers, she felt a nearly imperceptible change in the air. In the next moment, the atmosphere of the bar became thick with an effervescent hum that purred on the edges of their awareness, the now familiar pulse of his magic twining itself around the threads that bound her. He didn't seem startled by the revelation, but his demeanor shifted subtly, and she could see the gleam of recognition in his eyes.

"She keeps herself well-hidden when she wants to, doesn't she? Even from you. She's not called The Ramblin' Rose for nothing apparently, but she does choose her guardians, and she seemed particularly happy to have appropriated me." She sighed. "Honestly, it's been an interesting venture, but I don't necessarily see this being the have all, end-all of my life. I do want more, but…"

"It's not time yet," he finished for her when she hesitated.

"No," Sarah ran a finger slowly along the neckline of her blouse, noting the way his gaze pinpointed the motion. Pausing, she toyed with the gathered edge for a breath before pulling it down to expose the upper swell of her left breast. Inked upon it, in vibrant crimson hues, was the exquisite rendering of a rose, nearly full bloom. Dark green vines twisted around it in a familiar pattern before dipping beneath the edge of her blouse, the rest hidden beneath her clothes. "When she first marked me, it was little more than a single bud."

"Hmm, so magic still has a claim on you," he stated, his eyes flicking from the tattoo-like mark to her own, an unreadable emotion momentarily emanating from within the iridescent, dual colored depths.

"It would seem. It seeks me out whether I want it or not."

She gave him an accusatory glance, to which he smirked in answer before returning to the pool table, assessing his next play. Leaning over, he motioned the striped red to a center pocket. The cue ball seemed to jump away from his pool stick, shooting across the middle of the table in a swift motion. The sound of the crystal hitting its target resonated sharply over the tones of _Dream On_ with a resounding _clink!_

"Are you aware of the nature of an establishment such as this?"

"I think I've garnered enough information over the years to gather a fair idea. Believe me, the first time I noticed some of my clientele were more than they seemed didn't escape me, and they seemed as nervous as I was when they realized I could see through their glamours. Learning the mirrors here work in a similar fashion as my vanity mirror was a bit of a shock in the beginning, too, especially when those little sidewalk cretins would randomly walk through the mirror behind the bar to steal the Grey Goose." She shook her head in bemusement, then gave him an aggrieved glance. "I should charge you for those, by the way. There's no accounting for goblin tastes, but when enough of them disappear, it adds up. Apparently, it's somewhat of a black market commodity. Something about a drink they call 'Goosing the Goblin.' I'm afraid to ask what else is in it, and Hoggle assures me I'll never want to try it. Even he shudders at the thought," she laughed. "He was pleased, though, when I became the Rose's proprietor. He was able to pop in to see me more often."

"Damnable dwarf. Never could trust him to obey completely."

"I blame that more on you than him. Besides, he's been a huge help in regulating what goes on around here under mortal noses. You should be thankful." She grinned at the disdainful scowl he gave her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As ever, all things Labyrinth are not mine. 
> 
> Shakespearean quote from Othello.
> 
> Around the world A coin is placed under the rail next to the diamonds on the rail. The center diamond at the head of the table is taken as zero, and each diamond from that is considered to be one game. To go 'around the world' is to beat your opponent so badly that the coin travels all the way around the diamonds on the table.  
> -Pool Jargon
> 
> "Black Magic Woman/Gypsy Queen" - Santana, 1970 (though originally by Fleetwood Mac, who I adore, I much prefer Santana's arrangement).
> 
> "Astronomy" - Blue Oyster Cult, Imaginos Album, 1974
> 
> "Dream On" - Aerosmith, 1973
> 
> Why yes, I was going through what my husband terms my "70's kick" when I began this story, and I chose to keep it mostly in that realm, though one or two from later decades do crop in. My musical tastes tend to vary widely, so dont judge me based on a few songs, as nothing is out of my realm. *lol*
> 
> Crystalline Dreams,  
> ~*~ Sheyrina, Labyrinthian Dragon


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We're gonna do a tiny jump here and a flick forward.

It was as he was considering his fourth shot that Sarah decided she should probably up her game, having been so mesmerized by his lithe movements and charismatic grace that her mind led her into decidedly shameless scenarios involving him, the pool table, and a distinct lack of clothing. Although she didn't particularly mind whether she won or lost this game, that wasn't the point—it was simply the principle of the matter. There were far bigger things at stake.

His third question had taken a turn into their mutual past as he queried her about Toby's well-being.

"He's a typical teenage boy," she'd responded. "Cars, video games, girls. He's quite the charmer."

"Of course, he is. Not just any child would have been worthy of being my namesake."

She rolled her eyes. "I swear, there's not an ounce of modesty in you."

He leaned toward her, the mischievous glint back in his eyes. "None," he affirmed, then turned and paced the side of the table to his next shot.

She slid off her stool and sashayed along the table, leaning her hands on the rail above his intended target. "You know, some might call that kind of arrogance deplorable."

He looked up at her from where he was bent over the table. "You know all too well just how 'deplorable' I can be."

It was her turn to be the mischievous one, and she took the opportunity with glee. Timing was everything, and just as he moved to strike the cue ball, she grasped the leather cord of her bodice, giving it a swift tug that undid the tie. The top of the lacing loosened dramatically as the weight of her breasts, released from their confines, pushed against the fabric of her blouse. It wasn't revealing in any sense, but it served her purpose. She gave him a saucy wink as his cue stick slipped on the crystal, the tip bumping into the felt-lined slate. The cue ball jumped a short distance, knocking into its intended mark just enough to set it rolling slowly across the table before coming to a stop.

He stood up and raised a brow at her. "Distractions are a form of cheating, Sarah."

She casually leaned against the table, twirling the leather lacing around her finger. "It's hardly my fault if you can't remain focused on your goal, Jareth."

In a flash he was beside her, grasping her wrist as he pulled her around to face him. "I think my focus is exactly where it has remained all evening," he replied, pressing her against the table. "And I think you are more than aware of that little fact."

Sarah placed her hand on his chest, resting it beside his pendant, then slid it up to his shoulder as she leaned into him, her breasts pressing against his firm chest through the layers of leather. "Aren't I just," she stated, whispering the words along his neck as she wound a strand of his silken hair around her finger. She tilted her head back to look him in the eye. "I simply felt I should even out the playing field a bit."

Strengthening his hold on her wrist, he slid his other hand around to the small of her back, preventing her from pulling away as he looked down at her. "Feeling outmatched, Sarah?"

She stared boldy into the dark shadows of his eyes, the gleam of conquest glittering beneath the taunt. "With you? Not likely. Though I should have realized you'd be familiar with a game that has its roots somewhere around the 16th century."

"Inferring that I might be a relic of a bygone time? That's hardly polite."

"Because you're the _paragon_ of politeness. Come now, Jareth, we both know you are _considerably_ older than I," she smirked.

His lips tilted up at her barb. Releasing her wrist, he slid a finger into the top row of lacing on her bodice, loosening it further. "Older, yes, but I've not passed my prime _yet_ , my dear."

She leaned back as far as he would allow, one eyebrow arching as her smirk twisted into an even more devilish grin. " _That_ has yet to be proven."

He tightened the arm around her back, pulling her closer. " _Minx_. I daresay it will only be a matter of time."

Sarah hummed thoughtfully, a knowing glint in her eye. "Before or after you've reordered it?"

"You will _beg_ me to reorder time, Sarah," he vowed, "over and over again."

"Well, then, you had best let me go so we can finish this," she replied, giving his hair a sharp tug.

"I have every intention of _finishing_ it, dear girl." He gave her a predatory smile, releasing her so swiftly that she was nearly caught off-balance.

Shaking her head at him, Sarah turned her attention to the table. She had five left to his four, but the game could yet turn in her favor. She was no novice, but when she suggested the game, she'd had some hope he wasn't as familiar with it as he'd proven to be. She should have known better, of course.

Grabbing a nearby chalk, she twisted it smoothly over the tip of her cue stick while her thoughts ran rampant. _Rock You Like A Hurricane_ began playing on the jukebox, adding a definitively risqué rock tone to the atmosphere. Glancing over as she placed the chalk back on the rail, she noted the way his eyes sharpened as he watched her hands. She smirked, unable to resist letting her hands slide suggestively over the length of the stick as she positioned it over the table. Catching her eye, he chuckled.

"You are enjoying this."

"Unless I'm mistaken, so are you," she returned nonchalantly, leaning over and striking the cue ball with practiced precision. The crystal narrowly missed knocking the striped green he'd been aiming for as it shot over the slate, meeting with the solid orange at the far end of the table with the characteristic _clink_ she'd come to expect. The ball dropped into the corner pocket, the crystal spinning slowly off to the side.

"No fuss, no muss," she grinned. "Now then, let's see," she tapped a finger against her lips. She supposed now was as good a time as any to turn her questions toward their mutual history. He had to know she was holding that line of questioning back. "It is said that fae food traps mortals in the realm of faerie, yet I was able to "snap out of it," as it were. Care to explain that?"

A brief shadow crossed his features before he replied. "Goblin fruit is governed by its own rules. However, there is one aspect which remains much the same: power over the individual should the mortal choose to partake of such temptations. With all the fairytales you were acquainted with, surely, you should have known better."

"I was hungry."

"You were naïve."

"I was fifteen."

"And yet old enough to have some very _adult_ interests," he drawled.

"Not all of that was me, and you know it," she huffed, exasperation clear in her tone.

He chuckled. "Perhaps, but it was your _desire_ that allowed me to spin such a glamour, and it was very...enlightening."

Deciding she wasn't quite ready to go further down that avenue with him just yet, she fixed him with a pointed stare. "Are you going to answer the question or keep toying with me?"

"I haven't begun to _toy_ with you, Sarah, and I can't imagine that you'll object too much when I do."

She felt her skin flush at the blatant promise in his words. "Pompous prick. Answer the question, Jareth, or I call your forfeit."

He gave her a grin that bordered on wickedly sinful, the points of his teeth flashing briefly in the darkened atmosphere. "The answer is simple, Sarah. It is written in the very passage you were so fond of. Like Snow White, you ate of the fruit, and like Cinderella, you fled the ball at the stroke of midnight, but it was your _will_ that allowed you to shatter the enchantment."

Sarah tilted her head thoughtfully. Nodding to herself in satisfaction with his answer she turned back to the pool table. She had one other question to ask him about that _enchantment_. Moving into position at the corner of the table, she gestured to the side pocket. A glint of white flashed across the felt as the balls collided. The solid purple bounced off the crystal and into the pocket.

"Exactly _what_ was the point of that ballroom fantasy anyway? And don't tell me it was merely a distraction, you and I both know there was more to it than that."

She knew there was a hint of aggression in her tone, but this question, above all others, she really wanted an honest answer for. Something had happened between them in those tunnels that changed the way he perceived her, and that _dream_ expounded on it. She was certain of it. She felt tendrils of the Rose's magic twining about her in answer to the sudden shift of her emotions.

He regarded her with little more than a smirk, the ethereal lines of his face drawn into an expression of idle amusement. "Simply put, you were getting too close. I needed something profound, something that would shake you from your single-minded endeavor. Little was I to know that you would draw me into your little fantasy. It was quite flattering."

"I'm sure," she muttered caustically.

"Don't be so acerbic, Sarah. That little fantasy of yours foreshadowed my undoing. Had you not been so...innocent...you would have seen beneath the thinly veiled façade long before you did. As a result, you had already woven your own spell into it with a magic far stronger than any glamour. But under everything, Sarah, you must understand that I am not, and never will be, any sort of prince charming."

Well, that was food for thought she had never considered before. And the very idea of him as Prince Charming nearly had her in fits. "No, without a doubt, _that_ is true. You _definitely_ could never pull off Prince Charming, and even if you could, it wouldn't be right."

He arched a brow at her, his eyes gleaming with an intensity she found made her breath catch. She wondered, briefly, just how far she could push him in this game. Realizing she'd been staring back at him a moment longer than necessary, she cleared her throat, her mind coming back into focus as she turned to ponder the handful of balls that remained.

She could easily pocket the blue ball on the left side, but her eye was drawn to the yellow one closest to the pocket nearest her. She always did like a bit of a challenge. The blue one would be expected, easy, and not her usual style. Walking along the side of the table, she mentally choreographed the path of the cue ball to pocket the yellow. Deciding her shot, she leaned over the table, placing the pool stick at an angle, intending to bounce the cue ball off the side cushion of the table. She met his eyes with a flirtatious wink before striking the cue ball with a moderate thrust. As expected, the crystal bounced lightly off the cushion and ricocheted back on a diagonal, slowly losing momentum before hitting the yellow ball with a soft _clink_ and following it into the pocket.

He raised an eyebrow at her. "I do believe you intended for that to happen."

She leaned her thigh against the table, giving him an impish smile. "Hmm, you could be right."

Sarah watched as he made his way around the table, pausing only long enough to remove the cue ball from the pocket. She waited as he came to stand before her, and turned to lean back against the side of the table, both hands resting on the edge of the rail behind her. He placed a hand beside each of hers as he pressed in to look down at her. "Is there a reason you decided it was in your best interest to do so?"

A playful spark lit her eyes as she looked up at him, tilting her head to the side. "Color me... _curious_."

"Hmm, is that so?" He leaned back, searching her eyes before he straightened slightly, lifting the hand holding the crystal as if he were studying it. He gave her a sideways glance. "Perhaps an easy challenge—this time, though I cannot say I will be so generous should you choose to repeat the performance."

"Ah, so there _are_ limits to your generosity."

He made no reply, gracing her with little more than a slight curve to his lips as he flipped the crystal into the air. The crystal arced, the colors changing, and a succulent, golden peach tinted with a carmine blush landed in the palm of his hand.

She raised a brow at him. "Really, Jareth, I thought you'd be more creative than that."

"More creative than you can imagine, I assure you," he replied, a libidinous drawl to his words that hinted at lusciously sinful pleasures before taking a bite out of the peach, the juices running down the side into a suddenly naked hand. He turned the peach upside down, allowing the juices to collect along the edge of the bitten flesh. "Open up, Precious."

Despite the reminder of her previous experience with his last peach and what that meant, Sarah recognized his challenge for what it was; this was a game of trust. He slid his other hand along her jaw, tipping her head back while lightly pressing down on her bottom lip with his thumb, encouraging her to open her mouth. As she did, he brought the peach to hover over her lips, squeezing lightly. Juice dribbled in a steady stream of clear, golden drops, coating his thumb and her lip as it trickled into her mouth, a flavorful burst of luscious nectar that warmed her tongue and gave her a strange sense of fulfillment.

Meeting his eyes, she dared to wrap her lips around his thumb to suck the juices from the sticky-coated appendage. She heard an unmistakable groan rumble deep in his chest as she increased the pressure, and she hummed in pleasure as she swirled her tongue around it and then let go with a wet _pop_. Before he could react, she grasped the hand that held the peach and brought it to her lips, keeping her eyes trained on his as she ran her tongue along the edge of the fruit, relishing the feral look in his eyes as she sucked and then bit into the succulent flesh.

Swallowing the bite with an appreciative moan, she drew herself toward him, her tongue swiping the last of the juices from her lips in a slow, sensual fashion. He was tracking her every movement with predatory intensity, his pupils wide and dark, and his breath, though slightly heavy, measured and steady. Feeling the bulge between them like a steel rod, she smiled, a kittenish grin of playful indulgence. She took a moment to appreciate that _Mystify_ was playing in the background.

"Challenge...completed," she murmured, dropping a hand to slide slowly up his thigh.

She had a split second to see the change in his eyes before he caught her by the wrist and spun her around. Catching her other hand, he trapped them behind her as he bent her over the table. Leaning over her, he pressed into her backside, his other hand sliding into the hair at the nape of her neck and pulling her head gently back.

"Even after you've proven your victory, you still can't help playing with fire, can you, Sarah?"

She groaned at the feeling of him pressing into her, marveling as it transmitted to the rest of her body in a burst of heat that sensitized her flesh and made her nipples harden against the fabric of her blouse, the friction sending little jolts of pleasure straight to her core.

"Now, Jareth," she breathed, trying not to squirm in his hold. Every movement rubbed her against him in the most frustrating and delicious way. "...that...is entirely...unfair."

The hand in her hair slowly relaxed its grip as it slid down her neck to span her throat. With gentle pressure, he pulled her up until her back was flush against his chest. The slow burn of arousal that had been possessing her all night throbbed with fierce intensity as his thumb stroked against the pulse point in her throat. Magic buzzed in her ears, tendrils of the Rose's power wrapping protectively about her. She felt him take a deep breath, releasing it slowly through his nose as the tension left his body.

She realized, then, that despite the care he handled her with, he had been hanging by a tenuous thread. The excitement that knowledge caused was heady in its exhilaration, making her blood dance as adrenaline rushed through her veins. It excited her to know she could wield that kind of power, to put him on the brink of breaking control, despite the position she currently found herself in. This tested the limits of her trust, literally placing that power in his hands and trusting that he would not abuse it. She felt the uneasy ripple of the Rose's magic as he continued to restrain her, and she countered it with reassurance and positive sentiments. If she were to fear for her safety, that magic would snatch her out of harm's way before she could blink. The Rose would not relinquish her claim so easily.

"Back to that again, are we?" Sarah could hear the amusement in his voice as his posture relaxed. She cleared her throat, tugging her wrists loose, which he released without a word. She turned to face him, his hand at her throat falling to her shoulder as he looked down at her. "Haven't you learned that fairness, like beauty, is in the eye of the beholder?"

"That depends. Should I ask what _your_ basis for comparison is?" she snarked, rubbing her wrists lightly.

"You could, but I sincerely doubt you would concur with the answer," he replied, "and it is no longer your turn."

Sarah huffed, watching as he seemed to glide along the pool table to the next shot. "You're incorrigible, you know that?"

Glancing at her with a supercilious smirk, he twisted his wrist, a milk white crystal rolling over the back of his hand and into his palm. He set the new cue ball down onto the slate. "And yet your curiosity demands satisfaction."

"Yeah, well, that old quip about curiosity and the cat is starting to make a lot more sense."

He laughed aloud, genuinely amused by her disgruntlement.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't think I'll be delving into the Rose's origin for this story, but she may show up in a future fic. Suffice to say that she is her own entity with her own purpose in relation to the Underground, but it has little to do with this particular story.
> 
> "Rock You Like A Hurricane" - Scorpions, 1984
> 
> "Mystify" - INXS, 1982
> 
> There may be some minor tweaks to this chapter as I invariably find things I didn't notice until after posting. In any case, I hope you enjoyed this bit.
> 
> Crystalline Dreams,  
> ~*~ Sheyrina, Labyrinthian Dragon


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